I Don't Need A Hero
by Tardling
Summary: When he finds Rogue broken and abandon in the middle of central park, Gambit takes it upon himself to help her out, and maybe, she will be able to realize that sometimes even SHE needs help. (Nothin' but ROMY.)
1. Fallen Mourning

A/N: Okay...this story was inspired by a multitude of other Romy sotries, so, if anything familiar is seen, I promise I'm not ripping it off, I was just inspired.  
  
Thoughts/Telepathy= //...\\  
  
---  
  
//Face it, Remy. You lyin' to yo'self. Tellin' yo' mind, and yo' heart that it be rain on yo' face, and not tears. Cajun, you jus' all washed up, now.\\  
  
Gambit stood in the pummeling droplets, the blackness of the night sky, starless and moonless, hovering above him. He was alone in the center of this great park. Central Park, to be exact. What was in New York for him? Nothing. Nothing but his iced breath before him in a gray cloud.   
  
He began to walk, chillded fingers dug deep into cacky trench pockets. He heard a cry in the distance.  
  
The sound was not a yelp, as though in trouble, nor a sob, of physical pain, but a wail, a moan, a bellow of unimaginable, untangible emotional turmoil. So enthralled was he, in the desperate sound, he missed the rain's subtle change to snow, and in minutes, the ground was littered with soft blankets of white flakes. He continued to follow the low bay.  
  
He hunched slightly, as he passed under a deep set stone bridge, which served no particular purpose, and turned a corner, to finally come into the sight of his 'prey'. The crying person, which he could see only a faint silhouette of, but all to obviously, a woman. He ventured further.  
  
He wondered to himself, if in this all too early hour of the morning, the woman would be alerted by the sound of his boots crunching into the snow surrounding him. He guessed not, do to her current emotional state.   
  
Soon, he was able to make out colors and clothes, and saw that this woman was laying in the snow, head buried in crossed arms, stomach flat to the ground, and knees crossing eachother as they layed in a most uncomfotable looking position. This girl looked as if she had just fallen, and could not move, but this is not what disturbed the Cajun. No, not this at all. It was what this woman was wearing.  
  
She had what seemed like a sort of, summer evening fashion. A pair of dark jeans, obviously new, for their color bled into the snow around them, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of all black canvas shoes. She still racked with sobs, or shivers. Remy couldn't tell, and so, seeing this woman in distress, he kneeled beside her, noting the familiar ale skin, and auburn hair.  
  
"Chere?" he whispered lightly, his breath dancing around him.  
  
There was no answer to him, from the fallen woman, and so he nudged her lightly. Finally, a response. Her face turned slightly, and she shook violently from cold. HEr deeply chipped emerald eyes gleamed up to him, and her nose glew with red chill.  
  
"Chere!" Gambit cried, recognizing her features. Her head fell back down, face first into the snow.  
  
Remy removed his jacket with great speed, wrapping it around her shoulders, and lifting her from what could have been her snowy grave. He continued to rope it aroung the length of her wet, frozen body. She barely responded to his touches, and stared blankly as he lifted her in princess-like style, carrying her to the street, to catch a cab.  
  
---  
  
A/N: That was just a prologue. I'm a Romy fan, and decided, I had to write my own fic. I apologize for any spelling/grammer errors. Let me know, and I'll fix them. (And, if you're confused about anything, it will be explainded in later chapters, but you have to let me know if you want one. Thanks!) 


	2. Hero in Traction

A/N: REVISION! WOO!  
  
---  
  
"Chere..."  
  
She didn't respond to the plea in the voice of who called for her, but rather she stirred, wrapping herself more thoroughly into the old quilt that was now threatening to smother her.  
  
"Chere..." she heard again, her shoulder nudged and in what seemed like an excrutiatingly long period of time, she opened her eyes just wide enough to clear the fuzz of her vision.  
  
"You." she stated simply, faintness, and fatigue betraying her actual surprise.  
  
Remy smiled down at her, his face contorted in a kind of relieved, yet skeptical fashion.  
  
"It's good ta' see yo' awake. Gambit startin' ta' t'ink yo' were never go'nna open 'dem pretty eyes o' yo's."  
  
Rogue took a moment, listening to his voice, surrounding herself with it, before pulling herself upwards to lean against an unexpected headborad. How had she come to have a bed to lay in? Last she remembered she was...  
  
"You hungr'ay, chere?" she was shocked out of her cloudy thoughts.  
  
"N'ah." replied she, putting a hand to her head.  
  
Gambit stood, moving from a seat beside her bed, to an old, obviously past it's better days, mahogany dresser, in which he set down upon it a tray riddled with food and drink.  
  
"Gambit be noticin' that, chere, ain't wearin' non gloves."  
  
Rogue became immediately startled, taking the hand from her head, and the other one in her lap, to hold one another. She had nothing to say in her defense.  
  
"Yo' not need them no mo'?" He turned from the chest of drawers, to look her in the eye.  
  
She did well to keep her head downcast, and eyes hidden from his demon-like view. He came near her once more, setting himself down in a chair that was in much the same condition as the dresser, "Yo' can tell, Remy, chere. He good at keeping secrets."  
  
"Where are we?" she asked in a down-trodden sort of way.  
  
"Safe." he replied quietly. Rogue rolled her eyes, and took now, this moment, to glance out the small window beside her bed, adjacent from Gambit.  
  
"It's snowing..."  
  
"That it is. Gambit found yo' out dere, in d'at snow. Why was chere out dere, all alone?"  
  
Moments passed, and Rogue took this time to pull her hair upwards, into a loose, but well secured knotted sort of bun. How long had it been since she had seen this man? Two months, maybe three. He had all but dissapeared after that whole world crisis thing. She had changed, and undoubtedly, so had he. How dumb she had been to leave her gloves behind. They were her last line of defense. Not having them with her made her so uneasy she could have thrown up but, what did she have to hide from this man? He had helped her, and oh, how she needed someone to talk to.  
  
"Ah' was runnin'." she said finally.  
  
"It was a bit late to' be runnin', non?"  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
"What was yo' runnin' from?"  
  
Rogue suddenly flared up. That was none of his buisness! How dare he ask! She decided now was the time to take her leave, and so, slightly wobbling, she stood up, ignoring the Swamp Rat's coaxing.  
  
"What yo' doin', chere?"  
  
"Goin' home." she answered violently, but her anger took perhaps a bit too much out of her, and she stumbled, falling to the ground with a thunk, bruising the palms of her naked hands. She didn't try to get up, this time.  
  
"Chere?" Remy asked, almost afraid to start her up again, but nothing happened. She was crying.  
  
"Oh, chere..." she heard from behind, and she began to tremble as two warm arms, took hold of her shoulders, hugging her from behind.  
  
"Don' cry. You can hit, Gambit, and you can yell and curse at him...but don' cry." he began to lift her up, and sat her back down on the bed, sitting beside her.  
  
"Tell, Remy what da' matter be. He make it better."  
  
"Why are ya'h doin' this, Cajun?" she asked abruptly, and he was shocked out his stupor, as he tried his best to get a glimpse of her clear green eyes, "I ain't never been nice to ya'h. Ah' don't understand."  
  
He shrugged, "Gambit jus' can't resist a pretty fille in distess." He tossed her a winning grin.  
  
---  
  
A/N: Yeah, the revisions were EXTREMELY severe. So, ON TO the next chapter! 


	3. Small Details

A/N: Short chapter. I'm sorry.  
  
----  
  
Rogue stared at herself in the bathroom, make-up free, and dressed in clothes she found less then satisfactory, though berable, it was really the make-up that was bothering her. Her face was white, just white, with fatigued lines underneath them. She sighed, rubbing her blazing eyes then looking herself over one more time. Black zip-up sweatshirt, pants that were nearly too small, which flattered her at first, since she hadn't been the one to buy them, and a pair of boots, thick, black, boots. She toossed a pea coat over that, hood sticking out the back, and buttoned it up, wrapping a purple striped scarf around her neck and chin. She left the bathroom, pulling back her hair, which had grown substantially, almost strangely in the last months, and gave a last glance at the little flat she had been in for three days.  
  
"Chere?" she heard from behind her, and she turned to him, a little smile on her face, "Ready?"  
  
She nodded, and they left, tugging on thin woolen gloves, Gambit locking the door behind him. Down seven flights of stairs and out in a terribly decrepid neighborhood, they walked, and there Rogue saw a bike, prepped and ready for travel, and Rogue dreaded the thought of going back, but she got on it anyway, holding tight to Remy, who revved the bike, and soon, they were off, on there few hour journey back to Westchester.  
  
When time had finally passed, and Rogue was staring down the face of the old iron gate, her stomach churned and her head throbbed.  
  
"Here we are, chere."  
  
"Ah' know." And before she realized it, she started to cry.  
  
"Chere?" she heard him ask, "Rogue?" And Remy cast a glance forward, looking through the rod-iron bars, trying to ignore the girl's sobbing as a figure stocked down the path, littered with snow, and claws ready. Remy narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Get away from her!" he heard the animal yell, his eyes ablaze. Logan was growling.  
  
"This is your call, chere."  
  
Rogue choked on one of her sobs, and huskily threw out, "Get out of here," and Gambit did, with no hesitation, and as they drove away, she didn't know which hurt more. What happened at that place, with that man, or hearing him call out from behind her with such desperate words.  
  
----  
  
A/N: I know, the chapter was short, but, it just wouldn't have been as sincere if I had added more than this. 


	4. Beguiling Chimera

A/N: So, yeah...another chapter, which explains very little, but I promise, in time, it will all come out, I just like the guessing, ya' know? A little more Romy comes out, but nothing major. Anyway, I'm glad I could get this out so much faster...  
  
----  
  
Who knew how long they'd been driving? He had stopped, now and again for gas, so she knew it had been a terribly long time. At least seven hours, they were through New Jersey, and on to the next state which stunk of metal works, even in the suburbs. Remy had finally stated, just after stopping at a stop light in some small town, that he was too tired to keep going, so they found their way to a little motel, rundown, and stinking of smoke and other such things Rogue didn't want to think of, and the room was no exception. It was stained in every which place, but her eyes betrayed her want to stay awake and she drifted quickly into a slightly restful state of sleep.  
  
Rogue awoke hours later, though it was still visibly night, and the little blinking clock sitting on a copy of the bible, read '3:39'. // Damn. \\ She cast her eyes over to Gambit, who slept on the floor, jacket under his head, and it was just then that she realized there was only one bed, and he had let her have it. She sneezed, and he startled himself awake.  
  
"Chere?!" he shot up, worry streaking his face.  
  
"Ah'm sorry." she replied, rubbing her nose, watching him stand.  
  
"Yo' gettin' sick. That's no good." he stated, stretching his arms and glancing at the clock. He stocked over to her, and gingerly sat himself besides her. She rubbed her eyes.  
  
"Go back to sleep." he said, his hand itching to move stray hair from her eyelashes, but she beat him to it.  
  
"Ah can't." she stated with honesty.  
  
"Me neither." he rubbed the back of his head, his shaggy bangs clouding his view, and they spent moments in silence, before suriosity and confusion took over his mouth.  
  
"What happened between you and 'im."  
  
Rogue looked at Gambit, eyes slightly squinted, "Me and who?"  
  
" 'Da Wolverine."  
  
Immediatley, her face darkened, and she opened her mouth, as if to tell him, but she immediately countered his question. Oh, how she wanted to tell him, "Why were ya'h in tha' park in tha' middle of tha' naught?" (A/N: Naught = Night)  
  
Remy sighed to himself, "Gambit was doin' a little runnin' of his own. He was lookin' for a reason to be alive, and came across you, chere. He be t'inking dat's a pretty blatant sign." he smiled a little to himself, "Yo' turn."  
  
"Logan and ah'..." she began, hesitant, "We're on the outs."  
  
Gambit held his breath as his next question flickered through his mind, but asked it anyway, "Not a lover's quarrel, non?"  
  
Rogue laughed at the thought, and his chest un-tightened, "Not at all. He and Ah'...we had a disagreement."  
  
"Anymo' to 'dat, cherie?" he asked, yawning.  
  
"Of course." she smiled at him. "Go back ta' sleep." she whispered to him.  
  
"Non." he said, a little playfully, "Remy had a nightmare, wil da' Rogue sing himb ack ta' sleep?"  
  
The thought of nightmares hit her hard, she knew what it was like to suffer from vivid horrors you couldn't escape, and she nodded to him, much to his surprise.  
  
"What do you want me ta' sing?"  
  
"A lullaby," he answered, realizing that she really was quite intent on the thought.  
  
"Ah' don't know any..." she began, then thinking back, she corrected herself, "Wait. Ah' do." she stood up from the bed, and spouted a harsh, though well-thought, 'lay down,' to him, and though he began to protest, she let out a heartfelt wish for him to have the bed, so, after a little coaxing, he layed down in it, and as he soon as his head hit the pillow, she began to sing.  
  
"Come with me, and you'll be...  
  
In a world, of pure imagination.  
  
Take a look, and you'll see...  
  
a world of pure imagination."  
  
He was surprised at her voice, though not perfectly trained, it had a raw, nearly operatic beauty, almost like the voice of his mother, though she was like an angel. A/N: His mother will be more explained in furture chapters.) In little more then ten minutes, he had drifted back into Elysian, dreaming of a certain mutant beauty.  
  
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A/N: Okay, so...yeah. Thank you, OH FAITHFUL READERS! I am a slave unto you! Anyway, be prepared for a renegade Rogue in the next chapter, but, and much more Romy-ness to ensue. You review, and I write. 


	5. Thank You

It hurt. **A lot**. She didn't know how, and she didn't why, but it did, and that's all that mattered. Maybe it was time to give answers...to get answers. Maybe it was time, to go home.  
  
She crept, quieter than the tiniest of mice, through their room, and out the door, not risking shutting it all the way. Down the hall, she ran, shoes in hand, and jeans dragging against the ground in a sort of comfortable shuffle. She ran a long way...hell, Rogue could easily run a marathon in three hours, or less, and...as the sun came up, had she run that far? She stripped away her pea-coat, and pulled her sweatshirt sleeves up, sweat freezing on her face in the cold dawn, arms still wrapped around boots, and jacket, scarf trailing from loosely 'round her neck. And suddenly, she stopped; looking down at her dirty, bloody feet, riddled with mud and leaves, and gravel, as it was she had followed the side of the rode. She had to get back to NYC, the only thought now in her mind, but first...she had to make a call. She had to call _her_, and make sure _she_ was all right, and Rogue wracked her brain for the number. She began to run again, maybe she could find a train station, and hitch a ride up.

* * *

Through flimsy blinds, wrinkled and broken, a clean sort of sun poured in, streaking across his lightly shut eyes, jolting him awake most uncomfortably, but he smiled, realizing where he was, and who he was in bed with. He stretched his arm out, looking for her blindly, and jolted upwards. Rogue was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Remy sighed, standing and stretching, and he gave a quick glance about. All her things were gone, except for one white paper sitting on the pink dresser, he picked it up uncertainly.  
  
_'Thank you.'_  
  
Remy crumpled the paper and watched it hit the floor without a sound. Usually he was the one who left the girl to an empty bed, didn't like that having turned around on him.  
  
"Mon dieu." He said rather blandly, beginning to get dressed. He knew he had to find Rogue, before she did something she was going to regret.

* * *

The number was dialed out with shaky fingers, and she stood, now with all her pieces on her, shivering in the cold winter gusts, not yet cold enough to snow. The phone booth she stood in, at some no name bus station didn't save her from the harsh wind, either. Ring. Ring. Ring. Rin—"Hello?"  
  
Rogue froze.  
  
"Hello." The voice demanded, soft, but irritated. A feminine voice.  
  
"Um...Hi." came her southern twinge.  
  
"Can I help?" came the voice once more, just as agitated as at first.  
  
"Yeah...Ah'm lookin' for a Miss Cameron Nixon."  
  
"This is she." Said the newly discovered Cameron. Rogue sighed in relief.  
  
"My name is...Edie. I think, I think you have girl staying with you, that I need to talk to." Edie? Why the hell did I choose Edie? Rogue shook her head, as the other side of the phone line stayed silent.  
  
"Hello?" Rogue asked again, becoming nervous.  
  
"What's her name?"  
  
Rogue stumbled, how do you tell someone that the person you're looking for has a name made up of mostly numbers? Instead, Rogue said nothing, and used the best of what was left of Xavier in her, to get a hold on this woman's mind.  
  
238 East 25th Street, New York, New York  
  
She had an address, now...but there was more. There wasn't just one girl with this woman, but two. A girl named Kiden. Rogue sighed.  
  
"You know what? Ah' think ah' have the wrong number, sorry for taking up your time." Rogue hung up the number, satisfied with herself on one hand, and disappointed on the other. She had to make one more phone call. Ring. Rin—"Hello."  
  
Rogue feared that voice, but there it was, his gruff, yet tender voice, full of anger and hurt.  
  
"Hi." Was all she could manage in reply.

* * *

A/N: Alright, there...another chapter. I appreciate your reviews very much, and I apologize for this chapter being more story line, and less ROMY.  
  
However, Kat, I must commend you, for getting results out of me, though you had no right to call me pathetic or judge my care or gratefulness for the reviews of which I have received.

PS: I reccommend you all to pick up a copy of the latest NYX, it's good. And, some of it will be incorporated in this story.


	6. Flowers Become Screens

Cameron hung up the phone. Who had the nerve to call in the wee hours of the morning? It sounded like some punk kid, anyway. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, the thick brown locks falling in stings, as she thought about the two young girls in her apartment.

"Oh, **GOD**! No! **NO**, **NO**,** NO**!" she heard behind her, and turned in fear. Kiden was screaming, staring at the empty spot on the couch. The blonde girl's arms flailed, and she curled up into herself, looking from the couch, to Ms. Palmer, to the unnamed girl with thick dark make-up, and back again.

The girl who had no name stood from her end of the couch, and made her way towards Kiden, two silvery claws growing from her knuckles, and in one foul second, time stopped.

* * *

"Hello." The voice on the other line said, and she could hear his worry betraying himself.

"Logan," Rogue began, "Can-can you..." she stopped herself. She couldn't ask him to come get her. He'd just tell her to give up on this quest she'd set herself on. He'd tell her she's in big trouble, never mind that she's older, and wiser now. He'd pass off her anger and hurt towards him, and flip it around, putting his on her.

"Kid? Where are you? Stripes, are you okay?" she couldn't speak, it seemed, but she pushed herself.

"I'm...I'm coming home soon. I need to make a stop in the city first, but I'll be home soon."

"Where are you?" he demanded.

"I miss you, Logan." She began to cry. "I'll be home really soon." She reached to hang up the phone, hearing his screams for her dampen until she finally slammed the little black receiver down on the hook. She had to do this. She wiped her face with determination.

Rogue carefully stepped out of the phone booth, head down, when a voice shocked her from her thoughts.

"Yo' quick, chere. But Gambit's quicker."

The little southern belle looked at him, standing against his propped up bike and in that moment, he was beautiful. A sight for tired, and soar eyes.

"Remy..." she whispered.

"Need a lift?" he spoke, as she approached him, digging her hands into her pockets.

"That'd be nice." She smiled at him.

"Home?" he asked a little ruefully.

"No. New York City." She saw his face brighten, as she began to climb on the bike behind him, and suddenly, it started up.

"Yo' know, chere," he began, "You don't need to run from me."

* * *

Logan threw the little white phone to the ground, watching it smash into a thousand pieces, startling both Storm and Kitty, who were in the kitchen, watching him eagerly, hoping for some news of their friend and student.

"Mr. Logan?" Kitty began, but a growl was her response from him, and he stormed past the two, down the hall and into the Professor's office without so much as a word.

"Charles!" he began, "Tell me where she's going, in the city. She's over her head this time. I need to stop her!"

Xavier, who was startled, softened, as he rolled out from behind his desk.

"She will do as she sees fit, Logan. She's not a child anymore."

"She's not an adult, either!" she shouted back.

"No. She's not. But, she has more wisdom than you know her to have, and more love for you, than anyone else. She does what she does, for you. She tried to help, than run, and now she sees that running will only darken her heart, in this matter." Xavier put a steady hand on his friend's forearm.

"She's trying to help you, Logan."

"I can help myself!"

"Perhaps. But, you won't. Rogue, knows the pain you have, in this particular matter. In her own way, she's trying to redeem her soul, through you."

Logan faltered. He'd never thought of that. He'd never thought that this stain on his heart had passed to her, in the times she's touched him, and suddenly, it was clear. She was trying to help X-23, for him.

* * *

_**A/N:** I'll explain, as time goes on, what IS exactly going on, but this is the first REAL clue, to the greater storyline._

_**PS:** I'm using characters from the 'NYX' universe, as well as this one. NYX is another comic, under the Marvel label, and is REALLY good._


End file.
